


Saturday Sunshine

by ourcrashdownblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Parents, Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Asexual Character, Asexual/Allosexual Relationship, Asexuality Spectrum, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Compromise, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Kissing, Hand Jobs, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Married Life, Married Sex, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Schmoop, Short One Shot, Soft Dean Winchester, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26782189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourcrashdownblue/pseuds/ourcrashdownblue
Summary: Castiel and Dean have time for a Saturday morning quickie before Jack wakes up, and then it’s time for fluffy family cuddles.Just a fluffy one-shot since I’ve been working on a dark fic lately :)
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 180





	Saturday Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a stand-alone story but takes place in the same universe as "Angel Food Cake" and may make a little more sense is you read that one first. I hope you enjoy!!

Everything is warm and soft and bright when Castiel’s eyes finally open. The sun glows through the white curtains, fluttering in summer air that drifts in from the window. His body feels heavy and stiff as his head rolls to the side. A smile draws across his lips at the tickle of hot breath on his collarbone.

Dean shifts in his sleep, snuffling when Castiel draws him in closer. Spiky, fluffy strands of dark blonde hair poke at Castiel’s cheeks as he kisses his head. Dean’s hands clench and unclench, the even rise and fall of his chest shifting as he seems to float back up to consciousness. Castiel’s fingers smooth along his husband’s spine over the man’s t-shirt. 

“Caa…” Dean grunts, eyes squeezing against the brightness of the room before falling open. An unfocused, emerald gaze meets Castiel’s and a smile pulls at plush lips.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel says.

Dean smacks his lips, nipping a lazy kiss at Castiel’s jaw, “Mornin’.”

Settling back in against Castiel’s side, he hooks a possessive hairy leg over his husband’s thighs. Castiel kisses Dean’s forehead, right where it usually creases when he’s stressed.

“How did you sleep?”

“Heh,” Dean huffs a laugh. Voice deep and grumbly from disuse, he says, “Like a baby, man. Wouldn’t ‘ve slept better if I’d gotten shot with a tranquilizer.” Castiel hums in acknowledgement, fingers playing with Dean’s fluffy hair, “How ‘bout you?”

“Wonderfully,” Castiel sighs, “Except, someone felt it was necessary to kick me in his sleep and wake me up at two o’clock this morning.”

A beautiful laugh bubbles up from Dean’s chest, vibrating against Castiel and making his feigned glare falter when mirth-filled eyes find his.

Dean rolls onto his belly, hands splaying over Castiel’s bare chest, propping his chin up, “What? You don’t like it when I get wild in bed?”

Castiel snorts and zigzags his thumb along the rough grain of Dean’s stubble.

“Not when there are casualties.”

Dean’s smirk splits into a wide grin and Castiel has a flashing memory of the nineteen-year-old, cocky kid he first met when they were in college together. His chest squeezes in affection at the thought. Now a forty-year-old doctor, Dean’s eyes still glimmer at Castiel like they have every day for the last two decades.

“Casualties? That’s a little dramatic, dontcha think?”

“I’m not dramatic,” Castiel says, gently tugging at his husband’s hair until Dean is leaning in, lips hovering a few inches away, “And that didn’t sound like an apology.”

Castiel closes the distance, mouths brushing and gliding together in chaste kisses that have butterflies swooping in his stomach. Even the sour taste on their tongues can’t ruin the fuzzy feeling he has inside.

Dean draws back with a quirked brow, “And how do you suggest I ‘apologize’, sunshine?”

Castiel smirks, yanking Dean back in for another, more heated kiss, before he replies, “How about you go back to being cute and _asleep_ so I may cuddle you.”

Dean’s head tips in a gentle laugh, white teeth flashing in the light, “Cuddle, huh? I don’t know, Cas, it’s already--” His eyes glance over to the nightstand, “seven o’clock. Jack’s gonna be up in a half an hour and I wanted to get the spare part in Baby before it gets too hot out. Plus, now that I’m awake...I can hear the coffee pot callin’ my name.”

Castiel rolls his eyes with a groan, “Dean, it’s Saturday morning. You cannot possibly convince me that you’d willingly start your day this early.”

Dean smirks, “What about Jack?”

“It’s just as you said,” Castiel winds his fingers in soft tufts that stick up like a hedgehog, and a little gasp leaves Dean’s lips, “he won’t be crawling in with us for _at least_ another half an hour. I think that gives us plenty of time. Don’t you?”

Dean gulps. Eyes growing darker, he teases, “And the coffee?”

“Hmm,” Castiel taps his lips as he pretends to mull it over. Dean’s yelp turns into a giggle when Castiel all but pounces on him and rolls Dean onto his back. He says, “Perhaps I can think of something that would distract you.”

He moves to kiss the flush that blossoms on freckled cheeks. Dean chuckles, “I thought this was supposed to be apology? You goin’ soft on me or something, sunshine?”

“I’m a reasonable man,” Castiel shrugs, lip twitching up at the corner, “If I make you orgasm, the probability of you staying and cuddling with me for longer increases exponentially.”

Dean bites back a grin, wriggling his hips he says, “I love it when you talk dirty, Mr. Novak.”

“Oh, do you?” Castiel dives in to suck and nibble at his husband’s bottom lip until it’s a deep red, Dean’s thready breath puffing against his cheeks. He pulls away, dragging his teeth over the swollen flesh until it pops back into place. Dean’s eyes are brilliant and dilated when they meet Castiel’s. Framing that square chin in his fingers, Castiel pitches his voice slightly lower in the way that makes Dean shiver, “Do you want me to make you come, sweetheart? Hmm? Grip you tight while you thrust into my fist until you’re squirming and begging me for release? Is that what you’d like, Dean?”

Dean’s eyes roll closed, lips falling into a slight part. Castiel feels Dean twitch through the cotton of his boxers against his hip.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean groans, “Alright-- _shit_. Alright. You win, big guy. You win.” 

Castiel smirks proudly as his arm snakes between them. Dean’s hands automatically pull the quilt up closer around them to make sure everything stays covered. The door is still partially open, as always, and though Jack doesn’t wake up until later...it doesn’t hurt to err on the side of preparedness. They’ve had one too many close calls that only serve to reinforce their caution.

Leaning onto his side, Castiel tucks up against Dean. He drags a teasingly light touch over the growing tent in Dean’s boxers, tilting his head to kiss and lick at his husband’s throat. Moaning, Dean’s hips jerking up into the touch. He bares his neck to Castiel’s roaming mouth and is rewarded with a firm hand pausing to knead at the sensitive jut of his cock.

“Ca-ass…” Dean sighs, head falling back into the pillow and nudging his hips up for more.

“Does that feel good, Dean?” Castiel asks with a chuckle, brushing the shell of Dean’s ear with the tip of his tongue.

Dean nods. His eyes flutter closed and his face twitches into a sedated smile as Castiel’s touch grows firmer. Hands coming up to stroke Castiel’s bicep, he traces his fingertips over the muscles that are working him. Dean’s features are smooth and relaxed and Castiel can’t help but dot a kiss over each closed eyelid. That’s one thing Castiel had never realized he could love about growing old--everything moving slower. Granted, this fact of life certainly bothers him when he dusts off his tennis shoes every spring to go for a run. But, generally, he loves the lack of urgency. Slowing down their intimate activities hadn’t been so much of a conscious decision as a natural curve in the path they were already walking down. It makes his whole-body thrum to watch Dean slowly melt against him, not chasing his orgasm quite yet, simply relaxing into their rhythm.

He strokes his husband’s growing semi-erection through thin fabric, the searing heat somehow warming his whole body.

“Kiss me?” Dean asks, voice a few notes lower than before.

Chuckling, Castiel resituates himself and sinks into a deep, gentle kiss. Dean’s hands find their way into Castiel’s bedhead, massaging his scalp with thick fingers. The gasp Dean lets out against his cheek, as his nimble touch dips below the boxers’ elastic sends warmth rippling down his spine. Castiel smiles into the kiss. Dean’s hands hurriedly shimmying the boxers down to his upper thighs, trying not to jostle Castiel’s hand away.

With each stroke, Castiel’s palms spreads more and more pre-come over the throbbing flesh. Each pass becomes slicker, Dean’s hips and Castiel’s fist working in tandem to set a pace. A solid hand skims Castiel's arm, tracing lines on its way down. Tingles are left in its wake and he feels bubbly in his stomach--he already knows where his husband is headed. Sure enough, Dean’s warm grasp settles on the hand that’s pumping him. He shudders and holds Castiel’s fingers tightly under his own. 

At one point in their history, Dean would’ve been guiding Castiel’s hand. He would’ve squeezed when he wanted Castiel’s hand to tighten, encouraging him to stroke faster when Dean was reaching his peak. This had been how Castiel learned to give a handjob (specifically how Dean liked it) in their early days of intimacy. At the time, Castiel had been convinced it’d go terribly. He’d never been much for masturbation and only come a few times in his life--outside of wet dreams. He’d thought he’d end up being too rough or too gentle, he’d accidentally scrape Dean with his blunt nails or he’d panic and freeze up at the first touch. Any way that it happened, Castiel had been so convinced that something was broken inside him and this would be the thing that made Dean finally see that...but none of that happened. They’d laid down on Dean’s little apartment bed that was too small for either of their lanky bodies...and just went for it. With Dean holding his hand all through it (literally), and kissing him like none of it really mattered as long as they were together, Castiel made Dean come. It had been the first time Castiel ever witnessed Dean orgasm--the first time he’d _made_ Dean orgasm. It was the first time Castiel had realized that, yeah, this was actually going to work. Dean hadn’t asked for more than Castiel could offer. He’d been comfortable the whole time once he’d seen the mechanics in action, _and_ it had satisfied Dean’s emotional and physical needs. Castiel had spent ten solid minutes crying, in Dean’s arms, from relief-- _they_ were going to work. 

Now, Castiel doesn’t need guidance. He’s mastered the art of getting Dean Winchester off--has it down nearly to a science. But the familiar feel of Dean’s hand wrapped around his as they touch in the most intimate way, brings back a flood of good memories that have Castiel smiling against the press of Dean’s lips.

Dean’s thrusts pick up pace though ‘frantic’ isn’t a word Castiel would use to describe his movements in the least. Lips trailing down Dean’s stubbled jaw, he nibbles at spots then soothes the little pink marks with his tongue.

“Mmmm,” Castiel hums, “Now isn’t this better than getting up?”

Dean’s brows waggle over hazy green eyes. 

“Jury’s still out, sunshine,” he teases, but his coy expression quickly turns slack when Castiel takes the opportunity to squeeze at Dean’s dribbling tip. Luckily, Dean’s groan is soft enough that Castiel isn’t too worried that it reached their son’s room.

“Is that so?” He swirls his thumb over Dean’s slit, prodding it with his nail until Dean is burying his face in Castiel’s neck to silence his noises. Dean isn’t always loud in bed, but when the mood hits him, he _roars_. Castiel pistons his hands, relishing the tingly pain of Dean biting into the meat of his shoulder. Without warning, he halts his hand, smirking when Dean whines, hips jerking up for more, “But, if you’d rather get up and get some coffee, I won’t keep you against your will…”

“ _Auuhh--_ ” Dean’s squeezed eyes slide open, heavy breaths turning to giggles. He thuds back against the pillow, his mouth kicking up in a smile, “You asshole, I was about to come.”

Castiel taps the finger of his clean hand against his chin, “I believe the expression goes ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’”

Dean’s responding laugh simmers in the air and vibrates against Castiel’s chest. With a not-so-convincing, put upon grunt, Castiel nips at Dean’s collarbones in retaliation for being laughed at.

“Do I look amused, Dean?” Castiel asks.

“Come on, man,” Dean’s smile spreads even wider and he pulls Castiel in for a brief kiss, “I’m just teasing!”

“I should hope so,” Castiel replies, a smirk pulling his own cheeks. His hand starts moving again and Dean sighs around his smile.

“Fuck ton better than coffee…” Dean mumbles, “C’mere.”

Solid arms wrap around Castiel’s shoulders and draws him down, nestling the soft point of his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. Castiel mouths at Dean’s pulse, swiping little kitten licks over the sensitive flesh as Dean begins to writhe under him. He glances at the clock and feels a little tug of disappointment. It’s time to wrap things up. 

Pumping his arm at a brutal pace, Castiel whispers, “Are you going to come for me, love?”

“So... _Ca_ \--” Dean nods, breath stuttering around the teeth marks he’s now biting into his own forearm, “J-Just like that, baby…”

Nibbling his husband’s earlobe, Castiel flicks his wrist just slightly with each speedy stroke. With a choked growl buried in Castiel’s shoulder, Dean’s cock twitches in his fist and spills down their joined hands.

“There we go,” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s rough cheek, wringing out the last of the aftershocks until the taller man’s hips twitch in oversensitivity. He dots kisses on Dean’s slackened features, first over the constellation of his freckles and then at the soft, outer corner of each fluttering eyelid.

Before the spend even has a chance to get uncomfortably tacky, Castiel rolls to the side and grabs the baby wipes. He cleans them with practiced swipes that are gentle yet efficient, tidying them up while still being mindful of Dean’s tender parts. Tucking said tender parts back into his boxers, Castiel smiles at the sleepy blush now gracing Dean’s cheeks and the stoner smile tugging at his lips. He scoots back up the man’s body, pressing a kiss over Dean’s heart as he does so because age has not just made him slow but also an utter sap.

“Heh,” Dean huffs a tired laugh, “Knew you were getting soft on me, dude.”

“I don’t believe you’d know what to do with me if I stopped being ‘soft,’ Dean Winchester,” Castiel smirks. Instead of the giggle at his use of air quotes as he’s expecting, Castiel’s heart squeezes wonderfully in his chest at the look that crosses his husband’s face. It’s all soft lines and even softer eyes. A forest green gaze holds his and then he’s suddenly being hauled down into familiar arms, lips pushing and kneading against his own while hands tangle in his hair. Castiel’s loved Dean long enough to know that, even though he isn’t quite sure what thought or feeling had just popped into the other man’s mind, this is Dean’s way of putting it into action. 

When the Dean’s grip starts to loosen, Castiel draws them apart just far enough to rest their foreheads together. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to see Dean’s grin--it’s like a sixth sense he’s gained over the years.

“Now,” Dean says, a playful lace to his voice, “I’m pretty sure we had a deal, cowboy.”

“Mmm, yes,” Castiel says as he rises to his forearms. Dean’s fingers are playing with the hairs that curl behind his ear when he needs a haircut, “Cuddles.”

Castiel pecks Dean on the nose, causing it to scrunch up. Rolling onto his side, he draws Dean to his chest. His husband’s face (and drooping eyelids) tuck into the dip of his neck and he hooks his chin over Dean’s head.

“Come on,” Dean says with an indignant huff, “Do you gotta use that word? It makes it sound like we’re friggin’ puppies and not two middle-aged men.”

“Well you _do_ enjoy having your belly rubbed.”

Dean noses a little closer and Castiel can picture the rosy stain of his cheeks, “Shuddup.”

“Well,” Castiel chuckles, “What would you prefer? Intimate embracing? Somehow, I don’t imagine that would sound much better to you,” Dean’s breaths are gently evening out and his grip is getting looser where he has an arm slung over Castiel’s waist, “Dean?”

With a sleepy shrug the Dean sighs, “Man-hugging?”

He grunts when Castiel’s laugh seems to ruffle him up so Castiel cards a hand through his hair in way of an apology.

“I think I’ll stick with ‘cuddles’.”

When a snuffle and the light whoosh of breath against his neck is all the response Castiel receives, he lets his own eyes fall closed and soaks in the afterglow.

~

It doesn’t feel like Castiel has had his eyes closed for more than five minutes when the padding of small feet pulls him out of his light dozing. The sheets of their bed rustle and suddenly the mattress sinks with a new weight near Castiel’s feet.

Without opening his eyes, a soft smile pulls at his cheeks, “Good morning, Jack.”

“Hello, Papa,” Jack says.

Castiel cracks his eyes open and his gaze is suddenly filled with the cutest sight. Jack’s little fists rub over sleepy hazel eyes that still don’t quite focus. His jammies with the cartoon candy bars are rumpled from his sleep, rucked up over his little pudge of a belly. He’s clutching the plush snake that was a birthday present from Sam and Rowena as he yawns. Jack’s baby-bird hair sticks up at all angles and he moves to lean against Castiel’s shin. His legs are angled in weird directions that would have an adult popping a hip, but little kids seem to fold into effortlessly. Castiel has half a mind to sneak his phone off the nightstand and take a picture for his lock screen, but he’s been trying to live more in the moment, so instead he twists his upper body to face his son. The movement is enough to draw Dean out his own light sleep, and the next moment Dean’s snuffling awake.

“Mmm,” Dean rubs his fists into his eyes in the same way Jack had done seconds before and hums, “That time already?” 

“Hello, Daddy,” Jack beams a gap-toothed grin at Dean. Castiel is well-aware that, while he may be the one Jack tends to run to when he scrapes his knee at the playground, Dean will always be the ‘cool parent.’ But looking at the unfiltered love shining in both of their eyes, Castiel is more than happy to concede the title.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean says with a sleepy chuckle as he flashes the boy a teasing grin and nods his head toward the little Jack-sized space between him and Castiel, “Well, are you climbing in or what? I wanna go back to sleep.”

Jack crawls up to them in eager bounds, plush snake clutched in his fist as he smiles. Before he can make the distance, Dean scoops him up and blows a raspberry into his little stomach. Their son erupts into shrieking giggles before being unceremoniously plopped down onto the bed. 

Castiel’s smiling so wide his cheeks are starting to ache, and Jack’s own grin is impossibly wider. He holds up the covers until their son is tucked safely under the thick blanket before bunching it up under his chin that still has a slim pudge of baby fat. The snake’s soft head and black-bead eyes poke out above the blanket so he can see the world too.

“Are you comfortable, Jack?” Castiel asks. And the boy gives a happy nod.

Though he doesn’t talk as much as other children his age, the therapist Jack sees twice a month says that isn’t unusual for a child with his background. It had been a relief to both Dean and he when she’d told them that, with time and a healthy environment, Jack grow into his own voice one day.

Castiel kisses his son’s sleep-warm cheeks.

A giggle bubbles out of him as he tries to squirm away from Castiel’s stubble, “Tickles, Papa.” 

“I’ll take some of that,” Dean smirks, “If you’re sellin’, I’m buyin’.”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Castiel bridges the gap, squishing Jack in between them to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Dean chuckles, “It does kinda tickle, man.”

Before Castiel can completely draw away, small hands are reaching up and patting his cheeks. Then Jack’s reeling him in and planting a dramatic, wet kiss on his stubble--complete with a loud ‘ _Mwah!_ ’ He’s squirming in the burrito of blankets again, turning to Dean and diving in for an equally excited kiss on his daddy’s cheek. Jack misses a little and it lands on Dean’s chin instead, but Dean’s eyes are sparkling and he’s grinning so wide Castiel’s not even sure he noticed.

“Love you, Daddy,” Jack says, twisting back into place, “Love you, Papa.

And Castiel can pinpoint the moment his big, bad, man-hugging husband’s heart melts into a puddle since it’s the same moment his own does as well.

Jack scooches until his back is flush with Dean’s chest and Castiel settles back down, letting Jack head nuzzle against his neck where Dean’s own head had rested earlier. All squished together, a collective sigh passes between them as the room goes quiet again. Castiel cards his fingers through Jack’s dark blonde hair which bears a striking resemblance to Dean’s. It still shocks him sometimes that the two aren’t actually blood related. Then again, Dean has made the same comment about the resemblances Castiel and Jack share.

When he glances up, Dean’s eyes have already fallen shut again, his arm heavy where it’s draped over Jack’s body, hand resting on Castiel’s hip. Likewise, Jack’s gentle, even breaths are almost definitely indicative of the boy already dozing. As tempting as another nap is, the picture he’s looking at is too beautiful to close his eyes to. 

Instead, Castiel tangles his and Dean’s feet under the covers and continues to stroke Jack’s fluffy hair.

**- _Fin_ -**

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you liked all the schmoop :)) Your comments make my day


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